


Arranged

by thomasjeffersonsmacaroni



Series: The Other 51 [13]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, i see your eyes narrowing, it isn't got though, it's medieval but not got, ya know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9351812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni/pseuds/thomasjeffersonsmacaroni
Summary: Brienne of Tarth has never wanted to be married. But when she is forced into a betrothal with the wealthy Jaime Lannister, she discovers that some things happen without being arranged.





	

"An invitation to the Karstarks' ball. For you, my lady."

Brienne was suspicious already as she took the envelope given to her by the servant. Very rarely were invitations of this sort given to her as opposed to her father, unless...

"The Karstarks have a son my age, do they not?" _Typical._

"Yes, they do, my lady. Single and completely eligible for marriage, as well." When Brienne looked up, she saw her wink.

She barely stifled an eye roll for the young servant's sake, instead opting for a completely fake smile.

Because the ideal that Brienne held nearest and dearest to her heart was that if she could help it, she would _never_ be married. It wasn't like anyone would want her, anyway.

Which was why, when her father came to her and announced that she was to be married to the royal prince Jaime Lannister, it took everything in her not to cry in defeat.

 

"He will be good to you, I promise," Brienne's father said to her just before the couple was about to meet for the first time. "And if he isn't, send him to me. I'd love to have a word with him."

But Brienne didn't care what her future husband would show on the outside, which would probably be a horribly faked, awkward smile. She cared about his feelings on the inside, and they would without a doubt portray the same sentiment as that of every outsider she met.

_Brienne the Beauty._

And they thought she couldn't tell irony when she saw it.

 

She had seen Jaime Lannister before, at formal parties and in the background during negotiations, but she had never seen him like this, in clothes so forma, some sort of strange grin on his face as he beheld her in the meeting hall.

"Hello," she said as she approached him. If she couldn't make this interaction romantic, she could at least make it civil.

"Brienne, right?" Lannister held out his hand, and she hesitantly shook it. It was too tight, too aggressive, and her own hand tensed in an attempt to force him to pull away.

"You should be grateful," he whispered suddenly, apparently noticing Brienne's desire to leave as soon as she could.

" _Pardon?_ " Her voice was poison, and her entire body froze into ice.

"You know. I'm the prince. Everyone wants me. And yet you're the only one who's lucky enough to have me. _I'd_ be grateful, at least."

"Of course _you'd_ be grateful," Brienne hissed, hand yanking up to slap him in the face. As Lannister looked at her, mouth open in arrogant shock, she shot him down with a glare.

"You're too in love with yourself to care about the people around you."

 

If Brienne had been like the other girls in the kingdom, who she knew fantasized about their weddings day and night and were probably incredibly shocked by this recent turn of events, she would have been saddened by the way her wedding had played out - loveless, angry, and cold instead of happy and playful. But she had expected nothing more from any sort of marriage, especially not one with the arrogant Lannister brat.

Throughout the city, there were claps and cheers, but Brienne of Tarth - Brienne _Lannister_ , technically, though she would never become used to that name - hardly heard them. She was painfully aware of her husband's hand on hers, fingers interlocking, arms raising in what was apparently supposed to be a gesture of delight.

But it was a lie, just like her dress - it was too small for her enormous frame, and it stung - and her flowers and her beauty. She had been forced into wearing makeup, even though she hated it, and during the actual act of the wedding, she had been forced to kiss him.

Everything was made of force and stress, and no matter how much Brienne wanted to just go to her new home and swing a sword to calm down, she was being kept here. And no matter how much she wanted to just leave this marriage, leave this _kingdom_ , and never look Lannister in the eye again, she had to stay.

Somewhere in the crowd, a peasant made a bawdy joke, and Lannister burst into giggles and clapped her on the shoulder. Gritting her teeth, Brienne grabbed his wrist and yanked the hand down.

"Don't touch me," she hissed into his ear, leaning as close as possible. "Just because we're married doesn't mean we need to be friends."

"The least we can do is pretend," Lannister whispered back. "We can do that, can't we?"

Reluctantly, Brienne nodded against him. "I suppose we can."

Another peasant screamed from the crowd, and this time, Brienne laughed alongside him.

 

Lannister no longer lived in the large castle with his father and siblings, but instead in a smaller manor with his new wife. Their swords - her thin and not-so-effective one and his diverse set of backups plus his main one - sat together in the armory. And the couple reached for them quite often.

It was a ritual, almost, but one that they had to meet and talk about. The armory would be his before lunch and hers after, and if any of them needed it longer for any reason, they would need to get together and talk and figure it out.

That was the only rule that they discussed. Everything else was beautifully unspoken.

Sleep together, never touching, on opposite sides of the bed. Wake up at separate times - Lannister enjoyed rising early, Brienne preferred sleeping late - and existing in worlds that intertwined but never met. Eat lunch at the table, prepared by one of the servants, and then switch places in the armory. Dinner, too, at different times, and then reading in separate rooms until it was time to go to sleep once more. And then, the next morning, wake up and repeat it again.

And most importantly, never speak to the man you are married to, except to ask some sort of an important question.

It was an inescapable cycle. And Brienne was absolutely miserable.

"At least we have an alliance," Lannister noted one day at lunch. "If not a friendship."

"An alliance is better than nothing."

They clinked glasses.

 

Lannister acted like he was better than everyone - and when Brienne came to him and confronted him about it, his only answer was that he was.

Lannister didn't seem to think that women should be in combat positions, even if they could meet and exceed the same standards as men.

Lannister defended his opinion too passionately, reaching for his sword every time anyone said even a word of opposition against him.

And most importantly, Lannister was married to Brienne.

That was what she said to herself, and would say to anyone, whenever she wondered why she hated him. She worked on it every day.

 

Brienne wasn't sure where it started. But soon she was coming to the yard while Lannister was training, clutching a railing and watching him swing his sword against an imaginary opponent.

She hated to admit it, but he was _good._ Lannister had been renowned throughout the kingdom for his skill with a blade, and watching him now, Brienne could see why.

And she envied him. He, a man, had gotten proper training and a decent weapon, while she got only a sword and a wish for good luck.

Brienne would have to add that envy to her list, if she was being honest with herself. It bled through her.

 

Somehow, Lannister started coming to the armory to watch her. And Brienne could help but feel strangely self-conscious as he stood there with a notebook, writing down her every move.

Eventually, she asked him why. And he gave her a simple answer.

"I can be your instructor, if you want. I mean, you've got a good foundation, but-"

"I can teach myself, thank you very much," she hissed. "I don't know why you're being nice all of a sudden, but-" She rushed forward to get away, but Lannister stepped to the side and blocked her path.

"What are you-"

"Listen, Brienne-"

"Don't call me Brienne."

" _Tarth._ I don't know why you hate me so much. I know you were forced to marry me, and I know you didn't have any control over that, but _neither did I._ So maybe we can actually act civil towards one another?"

Brienne let out a loud sigh. "On the first day we met, you said that I was lucky to be married to you."

"I didn't mean to offend, my lady. I only-"

" _Then,_ you told me that I should be cooking and cleaning and bearing children instead of holding a sword, and that no woman should put herself at risk and go to war."

"And that was wrong of me. But I mean-"

Brienne stepped toward him and shoved him aside.

"You wonder why I hate you, Lannister? Now you have your answer."

 

Brienne had refused his lessons. But when she came to watch him again, something was different about his actions.

"So," he announced loudly and pointedly. "Instead of holding my sword in a way that quickly tires out my wrist, I hold it in this fluid position. And I swing it with control, not wildly. My stance is also fluid, making me a better swordsman. _Or_ swordswoman."

And that night, Brienne tried the tips that he had indirectly given her. And although she was too proud to thank him directly, the smile on Lannister's face as he watched her was all the indication that she needed.

 

For another week the silence continued, neither of them knowing exactly what to say to break it. But then, one night, everything changed.

"Tarth! Wake up!"

Lannister was shaking her frantically.

"There are intruders invading our home! We need to _go!_ Get to the armory, grab our weapons, I'll try to distract them so they're off-guard. Go, go, _go!_ "

Brienne leaped out of bed, not even bothering to change out of her pajamas, and grabbed two swords from the armory: Lannister's main one, and a large one from his backups. Her own wasn't very weapon-like, and if these intruders meant harm, which they probably did, it wouldn't help either of them much.

The thieves and Lannister were in the ballroom, and Brienne quickly threw him his sword and watched him fight off the ones that surrounded him. Meanwhile, she whacked as many of them as she could in an attempt to distract them from him and get them to focus on her.

But nothing worked. And Lannister was a strong fighter, but he was outnumbered ten to one, and Brienne could do nothing but helplessly watch as he grew weaker and weaker and weaker.

So without thinking, without putting down her sword, she charged into the swarm, using her large frame to push the intruders away and knock them down. She hardly felt the cuts that they left upon her, hardly heard their screams of shock and Jaime's - when had he become Jaime? It didn't matter - screams of panic, only cared that Jaime, _her_ Jaime, was in danger, and she was the only one who could save him.

Brienne heard Jaime grab his sword and hers, pointing them at the intruders and telling them to leave the home alone, and she felt them standing up and feebly stumbling away. And she heard Jaime grunt as he lifted her up and then dropped them both.

Jaime laughed into her stomach, and Brienne laughed with him, holding up her hand for a high five. He slammed his palm against hers, still giggling, and somehow Brienne was happier than she had ever been.

Somehow, this was the beginning of an era.

 

Jaime took care of her while she recovered. Not the servants, not anyone else - _Jaime._ Brienne was shocked, but she wasn't really. She had secretly expected it.

"Are you okay?" he would ask her almost every hours. "Do you need anything?"

And every time, Brienne told him that she was, and that she didn't, but he hovered around her regardless, almost like an overprotective mother.

Or a loving husband.

He was still arrogant, still quick to his word and quicker to his sword. But he was also chivalrous and moral-driven, gentle and kind, smart and empathetic.

Maybe she had changed him. Or maybe he had changed himself. But the most likely answer was that the change had happened to both of them.

Whatever it was, the first thing that Brienne did as soon as she could walk was take his hand and allow him to lean into her. And as they walked through the manor - _truly_ walked - for the first time, as they drowned in the bliss of the feeling of being a true couple, Brienne thought about how some things were better unarranged.


End file.
